Night Slayer 2: Monster Quest

by William Massa

  “This scene was recorded a week ago,” Octurna explained in a heavy voice. “The Cabal’s agents of chaos have been investigating the blast site for weeks now. I’ve been trying to monitor their progress from a distance. Unfortunately, this last agent sensed he was being watched, and it forced me to kill my surveillance or risk discovery.”

  I cursed under my breath. “So the Cabal knows this wasn't one of their own spells or rituals that backfired?"

  The sorceress nodded, features deadly serious. “They know they have a new enemy.”

  My stomach churned with dread. I had always known our initial element of surprise would not last for long. But seeing the cloaked apparition in the window, witnessing the Cabal’s swift response to our magical surveillance, drove it all home. Our enemies knew we were out there.

  “Come with me, Slayer. There is something else you must see,” Octurna commanded, and I fell in step with her.

  The sorceress’ long robe trailed her as she headed for her throne, which faced the bank of multi-colored church windows. She raised her hand, her long scarlet nails reflecting the light of the burning torches. A rumbling sound filled the chamber, and the throne moved to her right, revealing a large, previously hidden opening in the floor below it.

  Octurna waved at me, indicating I should follow her. I eyed the opening in the ground with surprise and excitement. Even though I had spent the last three months in this magical fortress, I had only scratched the surface of this place. I knew there were many chambers and levels which remained off-limits to me, at least for now. A staircase spiraled into the darkness below. For an irrational moment, I felt like I had stepped up to the entrance to Hades itself.

  Octurna disappeared into the hole in the ground, and I followed her. The shadows engulfed us as we descended the stairs. The rough-hewn stone steps were steep and uneven, and I focused on not tripping over my own feet as we moved deeper into the heart of this magical fortress.

  I lost all sense of time as I made my way down the claustrophobic staircase. The walls felt like they were closing in on me from all sides. Each breath turned into a struggle. Had Octurna warded these steps to slow down anyone trying to reach her inner sanctum? Knowing the sorceress the way I did, the answer was probably yes.

  We reached the bottom of the winding stairs, and Octurna led me through a steel-reinforced wooden door. More corridors followed, and by this point, I was lost. Which was the point. The sorceress was granting me access to her most private chambers, but her trust went only so far. I'd never find my way out of this complicated maze on my own. I thought I heard a bestial roar echoing through the massive walls, but perhaps that was only my overactive imagination at work. Then again, I wouldn’t have been shocked to learn that the sorceress kept a T-Rex in the basement. I put nothing past Octurna. You saw people in a different light once you’ve witnessed them turn another human being into a melting candle.

  We stepped into a large chamber whose contents made me think of a museum. Persian carpets covered the floor and luxurious tapestries decorated the walls, all of them worth a fortune. Oil paintings and classical statues lined the walls and many ancient relics filled an impressive array of glass display cases. Every piece inside this private museum, from the demonic statues to the various other depictions of grotesqueries had some magical connotation. This was a collection only a skull-collecting sorceress could love.

  I let out a low whistle. “Man, this place is like Clive Barker’s version of the Louvre.”

  Octurna smiled at the comment. “This is all that remains of the old order."

  I digested this for a moment. The relics of a world long gone surrounded me. Octurna was both a custodian of this forgotten chapter in magical history and its centerpiece. She was the last living Guardian, and for the first time since I met the sorceress, I understood what that meant and how alone she must feel. I wanted to reach over and give her a reassuring hug, to tell her she wasn’t alone any longer, but I did no such thing. Instead, I said, “I’m sorry.”

  The sorceress flashed me an appreciative smile. “The Shadow Cabal will be sorry once we're done with them.”

  Her eyes glittered dangerously, and I believed her. Octurna had transformed the tragedy of her past into a simmering fury that burned bright inside her wounded heart. She intended to let her hatred incinerate her enemies. I prayed it wouldn’t consume her.

  The sorceress pointed at the large oil painting in front of us. Three figures posed in front of a medieval chateau. A long-haired man stood at the center flanked by two beautiful women, one blonde and one with pale skin and jet-black hair. I blinked and had to lean closer to make sure, but it was Octurna herself. The sorceress was wearing a conservative dress favored by ladies of the era. Her skirt was floor-length, the neckline high with a stand-up collar. She wore her luscious mane of hair on the top of the head in a bun, and she sported a wide-brimmed bonnet.

  This outfit was a far cry from the simple yet revealing robe which the sorceress favored nowadays. I hadn’t recognized Octurna at first, but that wasn’t merely due to the different clothing and hairstyle. This Octurna sported a big smile. She looked happy, even innocent. I had seen the sorceress smile, but always with a sardonic twinkle in her eyes. The smile in the painting came from a very different place.

  “Yes, those were happier times,” Octurna said wistfully, sensing my thoughts. “The painting was finished in 1906. I had only begun to master my powers, and we were still a few years away from the purge that would decimate the ranks of the Guardians.”

  “The other two people in the picture…?”

  “Diamonique and Arion. Fellow Guardians. My best friends.”

  Judging by the emotion in her voice I suspected they might have been more than just friends. I wondered why Octurna would offer me this glimpse of her past, and only a single explanation came to my mind.

  “The blood in the chalice belonged to one of your friends.”

  Octurna nodded and once again her eyes teared up.

  “We were all orphans who had grown up on the rough streets of Manhattan, raw magical talents who were recruited into the Cabal. Young enough to still believe in miracles, old enough to be in full command of our powers, we patrolled the world for monsters and practitioners of black magic. We thought ourselves invincible and immortal.”

  A smile played across her features, and her eyes lit up at the memories.

  “Don’t get me wrong. As Guardians, we battled monsters and crazed mages, confronted horrors every day, but we faced them together as a team, as a family. I loved them both dearly. My childhood had been hard. I had never experienced the love of one person much less two.”

  I guess the Guardians didn’t adhere to the social norms of regular society. These mages made their own rules and lived by their own code. Who was I to judge their happy little ménage à trois? I studied the trio in the painting for another beat and then asked, “Who does the blood belong to?”

  “Diamonique. Her powers were greater than Arion’s or mine combined. She died trying to protect Arion. I always blamed myself for failing to save them. I lived while they perished like all the others. I was the only surviving Guardian…at least that’s what I thought until recently.”

  This made me perk up. “So someone else survived?”

  “A few years ago, I realized Diamonique had survived the purge. In a manner of speaking.”

  I frowned. “You’re losing me here.”

  “I’m sorry. I know this must sound complicated. The Cabal murdered Diamonique, but she didn’t die, at least not in a final way. Her essence remained in our world, trapped, dormant, waiting to be revived.”

  I studied the sorceress. “You didn't go after Diamonique’s blood because you wanted to absorb its power. You believe you can bring her back, revive her somehow.”

  Octurna nodded. “She created a spell that would keep her soul in this reality and prevent parts of her physical form being destroyed by the ravages of time.”

  I had wondered
how the blood of a dead person could remain red and full of life, now I had my answer. It was all making sense. The sorceress was both trying to bring back a lover and a powerful ally in the upcoming war. It would indeed level up our operation, but not quite in the way she had initially explained it.

  “Diamonique planned to cheat death. She spent months preparing the spell that would allow her essence to survive an untimely end and showed me the ritual that would bring her back to the realm of the living.”

  “So what else do you need besides your friend’s blood to pull this off?”

  “Her bones.”

  I stewed this over. "And I bet a bunch of monsters guard Diamonique’s remains. And I’m the lucky guy who will get to fight them.”

  She shrugged. “In a nutshell.”

  Another thought occurred. “So if the Cabal hid Diamonique's remains, then they must've known your friend could be restored. Why not just destroy her blood and bones?”

  “Her magical preparations made it impossible to erase those last traces of her being from this reality.” Octurna’s gaze shifted to the painting of her friends. “Diamonique will be an amazing ally in the fight ahead. The rewards outweigh the potential risks of this quest.”

  I eyed Octurna. I didn’t doubt her friend’s great powers, but I also knew this quest wasn't solely driven by practical considerations. She wanted to save Diamonique because she loved her. I could relate. I would have gladly traded my life for the lives of my fallen SWAT team members. If Octurna brought Diamonique back, it would make up for failing to save her friend a century earlier.

  My attention shifted to the chalice in the sorceress’ hands. “I guess we better act fast before the Shadow Cabal realizes someone is after your friend’s remains.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “So where am I off to next?”

  Octurna’s eyes lit up with determination. “Let’s find out.”

  7

  As we returned to the magical windows, I wondered how Octurna planned to locate Diamonique’s remains. We had caught a lucky break with Naja—a vampire who not only belonged to the right Coven but also had an ax to grind with her former master. But where did we go from here?

  The sorceress didn’t appear concerned about the challenge ahead. A moment later I realized why.

  Octurna fronted the pulsating wall of windows, her face bathed in hues of green, blue, and red light, which further enhanced her otherworldly quality. She held up the chalice at the shimmering kaleidoscope.

  “Diamonique will show us where we need to look next.” Octurna tipped her fingers into the blood. She added in a glassy whisper, “Where are you, my old friend?”

  The question hung in the air for a moment, and then the sorceress flicked her scarlet fingers at the windows. The world seemed to slow to a crawl as the pearls of blood passed through the glass instead of splattering on the surface. Then the windows crackled and blazed with energy that seared my eyes—yet I couldn’t look away.

  Octurna’s blood had served as my beacon inside the vampire monastery, and now Diamonique’s was doing the same on a global scale. A barrage of images filled the windows, a visual overload, way too many for my mind to process. Lightning fast, the magical system scanned the globe. After about fifteen seconds, it homed in on the target.

  The images in the windows stabilized. They now showed what looked like aerial shots of a tropical island chain.

  I eyed the sorceress questioningly.

  “The Hundred Islands in the Lingayen Gulf,” Octurna explained.

  I had heard of the islands when I had visited the Philippines back in my military days. I shook my head. “Don't tell me you want to search over a hundred islands?”

  “Once you’re there, my blood magic will point the way.”

  “Sounds like I’ll have time to work on my tan.”

  The scene in the windows changed. A shot of a bustling wharf replaced the sweeping aerial view of the islands. Tourists mixed with locals along the waterfront. Most of the crafts at the wharf were Philippine Bancas, double-outrigger canoes.

  “I'll drop you off near the Lucap Wharf where you'll charter a boat. You need to leave now, Jason.”

  I mulled this over for a beat. “No rest for the weary, huh?”

  Octurna nodded, her eyes glittering with understanding. “I’m sorry to send out there so soon after the last mission. Even though you killed Ravanok, members of his Coven might be in touch with the Cabal as we speak.”

  “I understand. We have to hit the Cabal fast before they figure out that someone is coming for your friend’s remains.”

  Her eyes held mine. “You know what that means?”

  “Yeah, I used up most of my spells for this 24-hour period. I won’t have any magic for this next mission.”

  “I’m sorry to put you at risk like this, but I have no choice.”

  I nodded grimly. I was aware of the stakes.

  “Any idea what's out there?”

  “Be prepared for the worst,” Octurna said. “A steady stream of tourists disappears each year in these islands. Only two days ago, a well-known fashion photographer was doing a swimsuit photo shoot in the area. He and his crew never returned to the mainland. There is something on those islands. Something evil—and it’s hungry.”

  I bared my teeth in a humorless grin. “You sure know how to make this gig sound appealing.”

  My eyes shifted from the bustling wharf in the main window to the various shots of the island chain that dominated the smaller windows.

  I snapped a fresh magazine into my rune-engraved submachine gun. I was ready to brave this new nightmare. At least that’s what I told myself before I could reconsider this whole craziness.

  I took a determined step toward the window.

  And stopped.

  “There’s something else,” I said. “Something I need to say before I head out there.”

  Octurna’s eyebrows furrowed with curiosity. “Jason, we don’t have much—”

  I eased closer to her, a darker note creeping into my voice as I continued. “When this is all done, I’m going back to the vampire’s nest and finish what I started. There are people in there who need our help. You understand?"

  Octurna nodded. “With Diamonique on our side, we will return to the blood monastery. And burn to it to the ground.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear we’re on the same page.”

  And with these words, I walked through the window, taking the first step into my next adventure. Inter-dimensional portals sure beat air travel.

  Vibrant reality replaced the dank castle, and a heady mix of sights and sounds assaulted my senses. The tropical heat was a shock to my system after the perfect temperature of Octurna’s domain. Sweat was streaming off my body within seconds, and I made a mental note to ask Octurna for a magical antiperspirant.

  Chattering voices dominated the wharf, snippets of English and Tagalog filling the air as I marched down a pier toward a row of parked boats. Motorized tricycles zipped along the pier, and pixie-like local beauties made my head swivel more than once. Crowds of tourists streamed past me, and a quick glance down at my clothes showed that a blue T-shirt, baggy cargo shorts, and a pair of flip-flops had replaced my leather outfit and motorcycle boots. My magic-infused clothes had instantly adapted to the environment. Black leather trench coats were badass in rain-soaked cities but didn’t work in the tropics if you were trying to keep a low profile.

  I bet my pale skin appreciated the change in climate and scenery. Dwelling in a fortress beyond time and space could leave one with a severe Vitamin D deficiency. All kidding aside, the beauty of this tropical paradise further drove home the horror of Octurna’s circumstances. She was a prisoner, cut off from the world by the death curse hanging over her head like a guillotine ready to strike the instant she stepped out of her Sanctuary. I had noticed myself going stir-crazy whenever I spent more than a day in the castle. I couldn’t imagine what my mental state might be if trapped in there for years
on end.

  I reached the pier and eyed the available boats. One owner took a quick glance at my tourist get-up and smelled a fat payday. I knew the owner usually came with the boat, but I refused to drag anyone else into the upcoming supernatural shit show. I would buy the boat from the guy by making him an offer he couldn't refuse. My hand reached into my pocket and closed around the magical coin Octurna had provided me with when I first signed up for this war. The coin could generate unlimited cash in whatever world currency I might require. I didn’t have to instruct it to print Philippine pesos, it just did so, somehow knowing the correct currency of the country.

  After I pulled out my third thick wad of pesos, the guide enthusiastically pronounced me the craft’s new owner and gave me his blessing. He probably thought I was a fool to brave the sea on my own. Perhaps I was. As I boarded the canoe, I promised myself to visit Vegas when this was all over. My magical coin could do real damage in Sin City.

  After a quick tutorial provided by its former owner, I was on my way. The opal skies, unencumbered by clouds, looked down on me as my newly gained boat shot over the calm sea. The tranquility and natural beauty of this place would have lulled most people into a sense of false security. I wasn't one of them. Gritting my teeth, I clenched my hands in anticipation of violence. I was reminded of the steady sense of unease that had accompanied my two tours of duty in the Middle East. Anxiety was the currency of war.

  About twenty minutes passed before I spotted the first island. There were over a hundred islands up ahead. How to locate the right one?

  As soon as the thought went through my mind, the tattoos on my chest lit up, and an orb of energy burst from my body. Octurna’s blood magic was once again showing me the way. As long as I followed the red ball dancing over the ocean, it would lead me to the proper island.

  Out here, far away from the prying eyes of any curious onlookers, my tourist outfit evaporated and returned to the black combat suit that felt like a second skin. The threads had made slight changes to accommodate the tropical climate and had ditched my trademark leather coat in favor of a tank top. I was almost comfortable in the heat.